Koda and Moxie: Old Questions
by SomewhatDandy
Summary: Quarantined in Jubilife city, the epicenter of a mysterious virus that transforms humans into pokemon, one pair starts a search for answers that will tear their lives apart. Join Koda, a freelance reporter turned Typhlosion, and Moxie, his former pokemon turned reluctant ally, as they find themselves in something far deeper than they could have ever imagined. A pokemon noir story.


It rained in Jubilife the day I decided to ruin my semi-comfortable life, of course, I didn't know that's what I was doing at the time. Much the same way, the rain didn't know it would be one of the longest storms the city had seen in decades. Both storms started as nothing more than a few dark clouds on an otherwise normal morning, well, as normal as things could be these days I suppose. The storm was just acting according to its own nature, and I was just following mine.

Chasing melodramatic thoughts from my head, I drummed my fingers idly on the cold wooden desk, each short claw hitting with a slight clack against the worn surface. I glanced down for a moment to see that my constant ritual had started to wear down a small set of gouges in the surface, revealing composite wood under the tacky plastic oak print. Shaking my head I stood up and stretched, I'd been back at this for the better part of a day now and I was already falling into my bad habits, I'd already destroyed the surface of my desk at home and had done the same to one in my old office, and now it seemed this one was doomed to be my next victim. 'The Sinnoh Desk Slasher Strikes Again' I thought to myself, imagining the cheesy headline with a smirk.

I paced, looking out the window of the library onto the empty streets of the city below, taking a mental inventory of everything to help focus myself. My name's Koda, I'm a freelance reporter, not a great one per say, but a damn good one if I'm allowed to brag, and I've decided that I am. Today, I had woken up late to a grouchy roommate and an ignored alarm clock, and for some reason, I'd been compelled to look through my old investigations. Maybe it was just boredom or maybe I'd just been putting this off till now without realizing it, twelve hours later I found myself sulking in the top floor of the local library, tracing the path of a raindrop down the glass window as I thought to myself. I should just go home and get back to finding a steady job, reporting wasn't worth it when the whole city had already gone to hell. As always I ignored my own advice, I knew myself well enough not to trust my instincts.

As the day slowly bled into the night, I'd found myself repeatedly drawn to a particular case. A couple years back, I'd considered it to be something between my own personal magnum opus and white Wailord to chase, I'd forced myself to give up on it back then, but a part of me had never stopped thinking about it. That's what brought me here, with folders and documents scattered about the desk and my trusty laptop casting a dim light over the barren study room. Thoroughly missing coffee as I glanced at the clock and noticed the late hour, I made my way back to the computer, sat down with some difficulty, and scrolled back up the document to the start. I'd started writing this five years ago before abandoning it, and it showed, I groaned internally as I saw the juvenile title I'd written, 'The Disappearance of Humanity', honestly, the fact that I ever found work with a flair for the dramatic like that still surprised me.

I looked back to the window and caught my reflection in the rain coated glass, a young but tired figure in a hooded black pea coat, it hadn't been cheap but I'd managed to find one from cinnabar that was flame retardant, it was sized for a human but it still fit alright after a few alterations. It'd taken some time for me to get used to my face after everything, but now, seeing the lanky Typhlosion staring back was comforting in a way. I might have changed… nearly everyone I knew had by now, but I was still me. I sighed, reminding myself to watch my flair for the dramatic yet again as I leaned back in the chair and glanced up to the fan that was lazily spinning above me, it didn't seem to care one way or another about my attention as it kept circling. I knew I was procrastinating in a way, but I wasn't going to let that knowledge stop me just yet, as it was I was far too tired and stubborn to let something like self awareness stop me. It always went like this when I looked through my old work, I reminded myself, I'd fall back into this one and convince myself that this time, this time it would be different. It'd almost be charming if it wasn't quite so pathetic.

Having had enough self loathing for the day, I leaned back forwards in the chair with a crack of protest from my back, and began shutting the windows on my laptop. Operating the machine wasn't as easy as it used to be, claws tended to get in the way of that, but I'd managed to find a mouse that worked well enough. When I got to the last one I couldn't help but hesitate though, it was an article by a reporter I had looked up to before she quit a few years back, Marble. She'd always had an odd way of looking at things. When I started out, I'd tried a bit too hard to emulate her style and it was painfully obvious, but my own failures aside, I still considered her my biggest role model.

I figured I'd give it one last read for the nostalgia of it, skimming through it to the end. I'd always remembered the end of this article, she had a way with words when she wanted and it was no exception, 'If we don't figure out what is happening soon, our own species is going to be extinct in the coming decade, and we will all be there to see it.' I always liked how straight that was, no one else wanted to talk about just how ridiculous life had become. I made my way to the end of the article, wanting to see the passage again, but it wasn't there. In its place there was an empty and meandering conclusion about how 'we may never know what happened to the human race but we still could have our humanity'. That wasn't Marble. Hell, I wouldn't even write something that bland.

I sat there wracking my brain for some sort of answer until I was shaken from my stupor by a white flash and the sound of distant thunder. Coming back to my senses, I started actively searching the page for any signs of a change or update but found nothing, the publish date was the same as it had always been. I paused to consider, I hadn't misremembered had I? I wondered before casting the thought aside; of course I hadn't, I was forgetful at times, but when I really remembered something I was damn sure about it. I gathered my documents and began looking for them, I was a tad old fashioned and often printed off articles and entries that were relevant to what I was working on and this would have been no exception. I had printed all of Marble's work in fact, it was something between professional respect and hero worship.

As I leafed through the last of my papers with no luck, I realized what I must have done. I'd left the file with her work in my old desk. It was back at Archford Printing and Investigation, the office I'd left on bad terms only a few months before when they'd issued me a gag order regarding a particular investigation. I groaned as I contemplated going in to retrieve it, knowing that the odds of it being quick and easy were slim to none. I'd made more than a few enemies on my way out, and my 'charming' personality hadn't won me too many friends before that anyways. All the same, as I gathered my meager possessions and stashed them into my satchel, I knew this wasn't the sort of thing I'd be able to simply let go. Resigning myself to dealing with the uncomfortable situation tomorrow, I made my way out of the library, thanking the night clerk as I made my way onto the rainy streets, pulling the hood of the coat over my head as I set out on the long and cold walk back to my apartment.

While I walked, something that had grown slightly more challenging since changing, I went over a mental checklist of everything I knew; it was something I'd started doing when I first started as a reporter, and it had quickly become something of a ritual for me when dealing with complex issues. Around six years back there was a gradual increase in reports of people turning into pokemon, it had always been a rather common topic in tabloids and conspiracy forums long before then so it took some time for the stories to gain any real traction, and it took even longer for skeptics like me to pay any attention. Around the same time however, there was a sharp uptick in stories of trained pokemon going wild and running away from their owners or just disappearing altogether without a trace, these were a lot better documented of course. Oddly, these incidents didn't seem to impact regular animals on farms or kept as pets, for whatever reason they seemed immune to whatever was affecting the pokemon. Much the same, it seemed that this phenomenon didn't even hit all pokemon, but if there was a pattern no one seemed able to find it. This state of ambiguity didn't last long however, within a few months the first well documented case of a transformation to be reported and that's when things really went to hell.

I stopped at the crosswalk, cars were a rare sight in Jubilife these days, but I'd always been a proud boy-scout, I wouldn't be caught jaywalking. As the white walk sign turned on I made my way across the street, reluctantly having to drop to all fours to cross in time, stupid stubby legs. I got to my feet, brushing the rainwater and grime from my hands, or paws now I suppose, on my coat before continuing. I glanced behind me casually, glad no one had been around to see that particular moment as I continued on my way and returned to my thoughts.

An Alolan man had been caught on a security tape turning into a Golduck, that had gotten people's attention. There was a media frenzy afterwards as news outlets tried to track down the former human, but this was overshadowed by the panic that was overtaking society. More and more reports of transformations came flooding in while a plague market of snake oil solutions overtook the market, all of them completely fake. I got my start as a reporter writing about the corrupt organizations making millions off the deceptive industry; it didn't see as much attention as some of the more sensational topics, but for the topic, my writing was considered some of the best. I'd always been proud of that.

I passed the old Poketch complex, feeling a pang of sadness as I was reminded of what it had become. The tech company had moved out when things started to get rough, a cheap chain link fence had been put in place almost overnight. A few pokemon still went in and out every now and then, probably keeping track of a few entrenched projects, but other than the night guard stationed in a both at the front gates, there would be nothing to tell that it wasn't totally abandoned. That same guard, a tough but old Archeops, gave me a slight nod as I passed. It was something between a polite gesture and a warning that he was watching me. I responded with a nod as well, though I suspected mine was less intimidating. Once I was out of sight, I turned a corner and receded into my thoughts once more.

At the peak of the media frenzy, a story broke where a woman who'd become a Linoone managed to communicate with her brother by dipping her claws in ink and writing out responses to his questions. Of course, there had been plenty of stories about events like this, but this was the first to be well documented and filmed. Around this time, rumors of the changes being a virus of some sort began to spread, the fears were soon proven to be true but were billed as a superstition at the time. The pair, who'd become overnight celebrities, made the rounds of as guests on various talk shows and were featured in quite a few documentaries that were being rushed out at the time. They soon became the de facto voice of reason, telling others to remain calm and wait for answers. Even if the answers never came, I couldn't help but admire their efforts at the time. Hell, I still admired them now, even if I was annoyed that I never managed to get them for an interview myself.

I passed through the intercity park, thankfully without incident, I'd spotted a mugging only a few weeks back and had been wary ever since. A Lurantis was being robbed by one of the remaining humans in town. I'd never been much of a fighter, and I only spotted the very ending of the exchange. Still, I managed to keep a small fragile part of my pride alive by walking the scared grass type to the police station nearby, he'd only recently changed and was pretty shaken up. After making sure he was in good hands, I'd made my way out of the station as quick as I could. When it comes to cops, there were two kinds of reporters, the kind that called in first and the kind that published their findings first. I'd made the mistake of falling into the second set one too many times for the local law enforcement. I started wondering how the Lurantis was doing, considering calling up the number he'd given me, before reminding myself to return to the checklist.

Over the next two years, the number of transformed individuals skyrocketed, soon everyone knew someone who knew someone that used to be human. The panic grew into a deep seated paranoia, society didn't collapse of course, it was too durable for that in my opinion, but there were riots and work shortages in every headline. But, as much as I trust in society some things can't be helped, the economy crashed and we found ourselves in the first real depression in nearly a century. Around this time, I started reporting on the less obvious changes to society, tv shows and movies having to adapt around transforming cast members, restaurants trying to make an impact by making menu items that were supposedly more supposedly friendly to the changed, that sort of thing. In my mind it was actually a little exciting, the world was changing more than it ever had and I was there to put it to paper, I was far happier and more optimistic than most; at least, until the quarantines started being enforced. I was one of the unlucky ones who ended up trapped in a contained city.

As if on cue, I caught sight of the distant barricade and fence on the edge of town. Just outside I could barely make out a few tents and a single patrol car with flashing lights. After the Sevii islands were found to have been more or less completely transformed the regions held an emergency conference and harsh orders were put in place, Jublife got it worse than anywhere else in Sinnoh. No one was allowed in or out without forty five days in isolation, it was expensive and the conditions were quite harsh from what I'd heard. I'd honestly never considered it myself. One of the searchlights fell on me for a moment, causing me to wince slightly and I forced myself to keep walking while I went to the next item on the checklist to distract myself.

Within four years more and more cities like my own were being blocked off and things were getting complicated, people and pokemon were protesting for every possible cause and purpose in the streets and translation services saw a sudden boom in popularity inside the isolated containment zones. They were primarily run on the efforts of a select few psychic types and pokemon that could write or speak easily. Around that time I started to work with a transformed Smeargle named Opal who was a huge advantage for me as an investigator. She was a decent reporter even if she was a little green, but proved to be a remarkably quick translator. Around this time, we wrote a series of essays on the various pokemon leagues being disbanded over ethical concerns and a lack of stability. It was the first time I'd been worthy of the front page since the transformations started. After we got some attention, through some stroke of insane luck we managed to land video interviews with Lance and Cynthia; the latter of whom had become a Flareon, much to her annoyance as she'd been hoping for something a little more impressive. I smiled remembering how matter of fact she'd been about the matter, glad I'd managed to keep her and Lance as contacts, even if I didn't have the courage to ever reach out to them.

I could see my dingy apartment building in the distance. It'd been pricey when I'd gotten it, but its proximity to the edge of the quarantine zone, in particular the fact that my room faced one of the spotlights, had gotten me a hefty discount after some time. The real benefit was having most of my nearby neighbors move to new locations after the glare from the light became too much for them, but I was far too stubborn to give up that easily. All it took were some black out curtains to forget about the problem entirely, and then I had a cozy flat with no noises from neighbors or expensive rent to worry about. There's always a silver lining, I reminded myself, starting up the stairs on all fours, damn stubby legs.

As I made my way up, my checklist started to catch up with the present. Shortly after my interview with the champions, the change finally came for me, I'd always known my days were numbered but in my head I'd always had more time. I'd been out for a drink with Opal when I suddenly began to feel queasy. Assuming it had something to do with the Blue Alola I'd just downed, Opal and I stumbled out into the alley. I'd been waiting for my drink to make a dramatic return when I noticed the telltale patches of blue fur forming on my arm, before I had time to fully process what was going on, I was collapsed in the alley in a pile of my own burned clothes. Fully transformed into a Typhlosion, and feeling the sudden effects of a night's worth of drinks on a body that was far less prepared for them, with swimming vision I slipped into unconsciousness. I woke up the next day in my bathtub with a splitting headache, a hangover and the nauseating smell of Opal practiced her dark arts in the kitchen. She'd always been a dreadful cook but the smell of singed bath curtains and a hangover certainly hadn't helped the experience.

It took some time to get my life back on track after that, but by the time I did most trained pokemon had vanished or snapped, and within the containment zones, there was barely more than twenty percent of the population left unchanged. By now, the number had dwindled to somewhere around five percent and the original pokemon that were left seemed to be staying. The subject of the remaining pokemon had been the topic of my last published report, helped in part by the fact that I was one of the few reporters with a partner pokemon that hadn't run away. Opal and I had some difficulty that time around, a lot of the pokemon we talked too were rather standoffish and abrasive when questioned, I kinda understood though, they were in a rather odd position alongside the changed humans. I certainly didn't envy them, though I was grateful that my own pokemon was down to earth enough to not hold the situation against me.

As I reached the door to my top floor apartment I opened it with some difficulty to find the same pokemon turned roommate passed out on my couch, the same way she'd been when I left. Moxie was a sarcastic, and stubborn Mawile with an inability to let things go or leave you alone when she had a point to make, she had a good heart and was secretly quite upbeat despite everything, but it did little to temper her abrasive attitude at times. Back when I was her trainer I'd been quite pleased with everything we had in common; but once I could talk to her, at first through Lex and then through my own transformation, I'd quickly realized that our similarities weren't the blessing I'd thought them to be. Nonetheless, she'd stuck around through my troubles, and other than a request that I stop using her pokeball and a complaint about her name, not much had changed between us. I sighed as I draped my coat and satchel on a hook by the door, I wouldn't tell her what I was up to just yet, she'd told me I wouldn't be able to give it up and I was dreading her knowing she'd been right.

I made my way to my room after shaking my fur and lighting my flames for a moment in a futile attempt to dry off from the rain. Sighing and cracking my back one last time before shutting off my lights, I crawled into my bed, putting off showering till tomorrow morning. With some annoyance, I wrapped myself in the flame retardant sheets, missing the soft cotton one's I'd had to abandon with my change. It wasn't easy, but I eventually managed to silence the questions in my head and, with some difficulty, I managed to fall asleep.


End file.
